Memento Mori
by Silver Spider
Summary: I am the god in my own history,The master of the game,I may believe if she would come to me,And whisper out my name. Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone,If life has ever been,Sometimes I wonder how belief alone,Can cut me free from sin G.RhadeBeka
1. Karma

**_Author's Note:_** This beats reading Hobbs, Locke, or Nietzsche. Yes, I have to read all that good stuff for my government class. And I gotta tell you guys: "Beyond Good and Evil" impossible read. Anyway, a fic idea that's been in my head for quite a while. I'm not sure yet if this is a one-shot or the prologue of an actual chapter fic. Spoilers are for "The Unconquerable Man" and "Home Fires." Beta read by, Jamieson. Thank you very much! bows Enjoy, and ask if you don't get the title.

**Memento Mori  
**

**Chapter 1 - Karma**

A few moments... a few hours... Soon it wouldn't matter at all. Soon everything would be erased without a trace. For however long it was, all she had were memories. Memories of one of their first and few member worlds, memories of all their misadventures. And no matter how hard she tried to hold them at bay, other memories began to float to her unconscious mind. His first smile. Beka's lip couldn't help but twitch at the thought. He was the most serious man she'd ever met, and it had taken a lot, but the day she forced a smile on the lips of Gaheris Rhade was embedded in Beka Valentine's memory forever.

Beka sat on the floor of the machine shop, her knees tucked close to her chest. The ship shook from the after effects of Harper's tesseract machine, but she hardly felt any of it. If she died now or the Andromeda went down in flaming glory, it wouldn't really matter because the entire universe was about to be rearranged from the inside out.

There were yet other memories. First kiss... first touch... first morning when she didn't rush out of bed and he didn't bolt awake with nightmares. Then came the memories of regrets and tearful good-byes. Beka knew all too well that there was no avoiding them, that she'd have to take the bitter with the sweet even if it far outweighed it. She would hold on to those memories until the very end. Until this universe ceased to exist or shifted back to the way it was _supposed_ to be, or whatever was supposed to happen.

"Beka?" And there was the cause of all this insanity. The formally purple alien stood over Beka, looking down at the woman on the floor.

"Is it over?" Beka asked in a flat, almost disconnected voice. She knew it wasn't, otherwise, as Harper would have surely put it, the universe would have already gone down the proverbial drain.

"It's up to him now," Trance replied, "But I have faith in him."

"Obviously not enough," Beka's words made her golden brow crease with a frown, but before Trance could ask, the other woman looked up abruptly. "I changed my mind. Bring him back."

"Take comfort in this," Trance offered. "There are countless universes, countless Bekas and Rhades. In some worlds you've never met. He didn't betray the Commonwealth and died surrounded by his children and grandchildren centuries before you were even born. In others, both he and Dylan survive and you two meet but remain only friends. In others one or neither of you exist at all, and in yet others you two are passionately in love, even happily married."

"That doesn't make me feel any better! You're telling me that in order for all those possibilities to happen, I have to loose him. It's not right! It's not fair!"

"Don't you think this is a little selfish?" Trance observed, though her voice did sound sympathetic. "You're willing to sacrifice the universe for what? So that you could have your lover back?"

"That's not why!" but if she were honest with herself, Beka would have to admit that that was exactly why. If only she knew how little time she had left with him, she would have never even thought of leaving. So little time, so many regrets... "So what? Yes, I'm selfish. I screwed up, and Gaheris is going to die. None of this," she threw her hand, gesturing around the room. "None of this will have mattered at all, and Gaheris..." Beka choked on a stifled sob.

"How do we know this Dylan will do any better? Who the hell do you think you are, Trance? What gives you the right to play God with people's lives?"

"Don't you remember, Beka?" the avatar asked, not without a hint of irony. "God is dead."

"And now, thanks to you, so is Gaheris," the woman shot back bitterly, before her head fell back to her knees. Beka threaded her fingers through her damp hair, still not entirely able to understand, let alone accept, what had happened.

"No one will know what he did," she whispered, more to herself than to Trance. "They'll hate him." Defeated, Beka hung her head again. There was no hope for her or Gaheris. If only she knew all of this ahead of time. If only she had a second chance. If only...

"What would you give for it?" Trance's voice broke through. "For that second chance. What would you give to have him back?"

A glimmer of hope sparkled deep within Beka's tear filled eyes. "W... what?"

Trance seemed to consider her own proposal, biting her lip in thoughtful contemplation. "If you could see him again, would you be willing to..."

"Yes!" Beka shot to her feet, suddenly forgetting all about her pain. "How? Tell me, please."

"There is a way," the alien finally said. "But it's complicated. Beka, I can only do so much."

"But you can bring him back," she grabbed Trance's hands. "You just said..."

"I said it was complicated," the other woman shook her head. "If I do this... you'll have no idea who he is, no memory of ever knowing him before, and once you meet him... I can't guarantee what will happen. You may not remember him at all or you may have a small inkling, a feeling that you'll have no explanation for."

"Do it," Beka declared without hesitation. "I'll take what I can get."

* * *

His body felt heavy. As if his head, chest, and every limb were being pulled down by lead wights. _It's the side effect of the black hole,_ he reminded himself. _The AG fields were distorted._ However the sensation itself was not what bothered him. What amazed him was that there was any sensation at all, and even more importantly, that he recognized it, because he shouldn't have been able to. Gaheris Rhade knew full well that he was dead. 

Death no longer scared him. He knew that it was his time to go all along, not Dylan's. So he died with a slight smile on his face. Dylan would live, and no matter how hard things got, three hundred years later, he'd recruit the crew of the Maru and they would bring back the very institution he helped to destroy. The universe would finally be set right. Gaheris had no regrets, except perhaps one. He never got to tell Dylan how sorry he was.

He didn't realize that it was possible, but the emptiness began to grow even darker. The last remnants of any physical sensation faded away, and Gaheris blissfully fell into the abyss of space.

But it was not the end. When Gaheris opened his eyes, the heaviness was gone, as was Dylan and the Andromeda. In fact, there was nothing that remotely resembled the warship where he met his inevitable demise. He was standing in a room or maze of mirrors, and for a split second it felt like each and every reflection was out of sync with his body, moving at him instead of with him. A thousand bewildered eyes stared back at him.

"What's happening?" he tried to say. "What's going on?" But the same mirrors that reflected back his image seemed to reflect his voice as well. The maze shook with the sound of his questioning voice, asulting his acute Nietzschean hearing. Gaheris winced, his face contorting in pain as he clasped his hands over his sensitive ears.

Just as the voices began to dissipate, Gaheris heard a different sound break through. At first he thought it was another echo, but he soon realized that it was a female voice, firm and confident.

"Gaheris?" for some reason it didn't echo like his had. "Gaheris, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he replied in a whisper. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a bright speck of light that grew and expanded until it took a humanoid shape. The sharpness cut through his vision, forcing Gaheris to shut his eyes. The pain subsided, and he dared a second look.

"You did well," his eyes focused on the golden avatar in front of him.

"Trance?" Gaheris was beyond the point of being surprised. "Is Dylan..."

"Safe," she smiled. "When he wakes up in three hundred years, the universe will be ready for a new Commonwealth that he'll help to restore. I have every confidence."

"Good," Gaheris nodded, satisfied. "So do I."

Silence spread between them before he had to ask. "If everything worked out, what am I still doing here? Is this," he gestured around the mirrored room, "some form of purgatory?"

"No, nothing like that," she shook her head. "You're here because you deserve to be here, and..." she considered her words, "because someone has spoken for you."

It only took a moment for Gaheris to understand. "Beka," he closed his eyes as memories of her scent and touch floated back to his senses, before forcing them back. Another regret, another mistake he couldn't undo.

"Yes," Trance smiled wistfully. "She loves you a great deal, Gaheris."

"As I her," he was no longer surprised by how easily those words came to his lips. "I hope she'll be happy in whatever new world that was created."

"I can't control that," the avatar said honestly, "but perhaps you can."

Rhade's mind snapped to attention. "You know you don't have to ask that," he replied. "However, as you can see I am currently slightly... disembodied."

"You're not a ghost," if he didn't know better, Gaheris would have swore she almost laughed. "You're a... potential. The potential for good. I told you that your life can still mean something, that you still have contributions to make."

"I thought you meant Dylan," he said honestly.

"I thought so too... at first," Trance admitted, stepping forward not without a good measure of hesitation. "I won't lie to you, Gaheris. My ability to intervene in these matters is very limited. I can't control the outcome, only set things in motion. I can't say what your life would be like or even whose paths you'll cross because ultimately..."

"Ultimately we're each of us responsible for our own fate," Gaheris finished for her, "But if there is a chance, any chance at all, that I may yet be able to right my mistakes, I would like to have it."

Trance seemed to be trying to make up her mind, but finally nodded. "Very well," she agreed. "Understand this: once I leave, your path will be set. You won't remember the events that transpired to lead you to this place, or the people who've touched your life."

The mirrors in the room suddenly shifted, reflecting back not what was there, but rather what had been. Gaheris saw with images – memories – of himself speaking with other high ranking Nietzschean officers. They were all arguing passionately, and Gaheris knew, it was over the Commonwealth and its ultimate demise. He saw the battle of Hephaestus, Dylan's death, and the recruitment of the Maru crew. Emotions from the memories flooded his mind and amongst the chaos, he could distinguish two that were the strongest of all: guilt and love.

"I said I would give anything to see them all again," he mused. "I meant it. Perhaps there is still hope for me."

"Oh my dear Gaheris," the golden alien smiled warmly, taking his hands in hers. "There is always hope."

The world went dark once more.

* * *

"Satisfied?" Beka teased her spiky haired friend. 

"Only that they're not killer robots," Harper replied as they waited outside the Great Hall on Tarazed. "Jury's still out on the psychotic part."

Beka only laughed, shaking her head. While she had her own reservations when Lieutenant Jamal appeared seemingly out of nowhere, with tall tails of a peaceful democratic republic, the moment she stepped foot on Tarazed, Beka felt strangely comfortable. She never did like planets, but then again most of her experiences had been less than wonderful. Tarazed was nice, she couldn't argue with that, despite Harper's paranoid rambling.

Noise from the open door of the hall alerted them that Dylan's meeting was over and both crewmates moved to inquire about it, but when the captain stepped out, Beka and Harper saw that something was clearly wrong. Dylan's previous cheerful expression was replaced with a pale haunted look. He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of some thought, before finally meeting Beka and Harper's concerned looks.

"Whoa, you okay boss?" asked the engineer. "They didn't try to probe your brain or anything, did they?"

Dylan snapped out of his trance long enough to give Harper a look. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Beka chimed in. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The statement made Dylan freeze before shaking his head again and walking off. Harper shrugged and ran after the captain. Beka prepared to do the same, but curiosity as well as a feeling she couldn't quite explain lead her back to the Great Hall. Most of the people who were there were already dispersing, the chatter among them dying down. Beka's blue eyes scanned the room for anyone suspicious before finally coming to rest on the retreating form of a tall dark haired man in a black uniform that was similar to those she had seen on the local lancers, but was somehow more refined. She could tell that this was clearly a man of some importance.

He must have felt her looking at him because he suddenly stopped and turned towards her. It was then that Beka noticed the brandy brown eyes and handsome chiseled features, but as her eyes traveled down his body Beka saw them: bone blades. But what shocked her the most was the fact that the sight of the built-in weapons didn't bother her nearly as much as they should have. In fact, the bone blades were the last thing on Beka's mind.

"Hey," she addressed him with cautious curiosity. She'd been told Tarazed was very diverse, but Beka honestly never expected to meet a Nietzschean.

"Hello," the man acknowledged her presence politely.

"I know this sounds crazy, but do I know you?" Beka finally asked.

"I was wondering the same thing," he smiled at her, and it was a smile she had never seen on any Nietzschean or any man for that matter, that sent a not entirely unpleasant chill up Beka's spine. "But that's not possible. I'm sure I would have remembered."

"Yeah," she replied absently. "Likewise. I'm Beka, by the way."

"Telemachus Rhade," he held out his hand, and she stared at it.

"You do that... the whole handshake thing?" she asked surprised.

"So does the rest of the universe as far as I know," he laughed. "Unless the customs of the rest of the universe has changed a great deal in the last three hundred years."

"No, I meant..." she cut herself short, not wanting to insult him, but from the look he was giving her, Beka could tell that the man understood what had bothered her and Didn't mind in the least. She extended her own hand, and he shook it with a solid firm grip.

"I need to get back to my meeting," said the Nietzschean. "It was good to meet you, Captain Valentine."

"Yeah, you too," Beka replied, still slightly bewildered by the whole meeting. The handsome Admiral started up the stairs while Beka turned back to walk outside and find Dylan and Harper. Something in the back of her mind made her stop and turn around. She wanted to ask him if he was sure they'd never met before, but the man had all but disappeared behind the large double doors. Beka shook her head, deciding that she was probably imagining things and went outside.

Telemachus was almost at the doors before his own nagging feeling made him stop. But when he turned, the visitor was already out of sight. Rhade stood still for a moment, feeling as if he had forgotten something, something vitally important, but the lingering sensation soon faded. _It'll come to me eventually_, Telemachus thought. _If it's important, I'll think of it later._


	2. Where I Reign

**_Author's Note:_** Again, not sure where this is going but it seems to fit into the storyline so I'll just run with it. I think the chapters of these stories will be titled after songs of my favorite band, Kamelot. The song may or may not fit the chapter but at least the title will. Therefore the title of the overall story will remain "Memento Mori" but the title of the first chapter will be "Karma." Also once again thank you, Jamieson for beta reading.

**Chapter 2 - Where I Reign**

"Up for a game?"

Telemachus Rhade, who had been leaning on one of the bulkheads, lost in his own thoughts, looked up at the captain. Over the last few hours that he had been on the ship, Rhade had been less than social with the rest of the crew. He knew most were probably weary about having a Nietzschean on board again, especially one with the history he inevitable brought with him. It didn't help that the reason he was currently on the ship was due to the escape of the former crew member-turned-warlord, Tyr Anasazi.

At the moment, though, Dylan Hunt seemed more concerned about Telemachus himself than the escaped prisoner. The taller man observed him with careful eyes, as if studying a new phenomenon. Telemachus supposed he could hardly blame him. Despite everything he did for Tarazed or the New Commonwealth, he likewise knew that nothing would change his reflection in the mirror. But to Dylan's credit, he never made Telemachus feel like he held his ancestor's actions against him. Rather, he made every attempt to distinguish the two, even though the Nietzschean knew that every time he called him Rhade, a little part of Dylan couldn't help but remember his lost friend.

"A game?" Telemachus repeated curiously.

"Yeah," Dylan smiled. "We've got a few hours till the Commonwealth currier drops by to take you back to Tarazed. How about a game of Go?"

"Alright," the Nietzschean agreed somewhat reluctantly, following the captain back to his quarters. "Though I must admit I've never played before."

"You've never..." Dylan frowned at him. "Really?"

"I've seen some of the others at the academy play," Telemachus shrugged, "And I know the basic rules, but no, I've never played before."

"Well, then we'll fix that," the captain clapped the former Admiral on the back as they began to walk towards his quarters. Dylan opened his moth to say that Gaheris used to be good at it, even if he had caught the man cheating once, but thought better of the comment and didn't say anything.

When they arrived, the 3D board with three different levels was already sat up on the table. Telemachus noticed that the captain's quarters were divided into two sections that he hadn't previously observed. One large desk cluttered with flexies was designated for work while another slightly smaller space was set up for more recreational activates. Two comfortable-looking chairs were pulled up to the second table. There was a small bowl by the towering game board, and Dylan reached into it, pulling out two small stones.

"White or black?" he held out two Go pieces in each hand.

"Black," Telemachus took the dark stone without hesitation and sat down on the right.

Dylan, however, had hesitated. _One out of two chances_, rang in his mind. It was merely a coincidence. It didn't matter that Gaheris always played black, or that he always sat on the right side of the board. Banishing the haunting thought from his mind, the captain finally sat down as well.

"You know the basic rules, right?" he asked his new game partner. "You put your game pieces on the intersections of the lines, and the idea is to to maximize the territory you control on the board by surrounding as much space as possible with your pieces. So, for instance, if I surrounded your pieces, you have to take them off the board. Got it?"

"I think so," Telemachus nodded.

"Okay," Dylan smiled. "I promise to go easy on you."

"No need, captain," the other man assured him. "The only way for a Nietzschean to improve himself is to engage in continual self-assessment. If you were to intentionally throw the game, my assessment of my abilities, or in this case lack thereof, would be misleading, and therefore not beneficial in any way."

"I see," Dylan placed his first piece on the top level of the board. "So what you're saying is basically that cheating is pointless?"

"Sir?" Telemachus frowned, clearly not understanding the question.

"Cheating," the captain repeated. "According to what you just said, cheating is pointless."

"Perhaps it has its benefits in the short term," the Nietzschean reasoned, placing his own piece on the board. "But certainly not in the long run. You become in danger of overestimating your own abilities, which may prove fatal. Nietzscheans don't believe in optimism. It..."

"Inhibits survival," Dylan finished for him adding another stone. "Yeah, yeah so I've been told."

"By whom?" Telemachus asked with genuine curiosity, and suddenly Dylan realized that he'd stepped in it. The last person he wanted to discuss with the Lieutenant-Commander was the man's ancestor and genetic double. It was almost an unspoken decision between them that the subject of Gaheris Rhade was still too sour for comfort, and somehow Dylan doubted it would ever be otherwise.

"Oh, you know," he waved it off. "Word gets around."

Dylan was almost certain that Telemachus didn't believe him for a single second, but the younger man didn't argue, and the captain suspected that he was perhaps even grateful for the lie. He nodded silently and placed his own piece on 5D4. Dylan smiled.

"That's a good move," he commented. "Was one of my own, but you beat me to it."

"Thank you," Telemachus nodded. He wasn't quite sure how, but even as he put the piece down, Telemachus knew that it was a strategically sound move, and if he didn't make it, Dylan would.

They continued to play in silence, and as the game went on, Dylan had to admit that he was impressed with the Nietzschean's apparently very real skills in the game. If he hadn't said so himself, Dylan would have never believed it was the man's first time playing. Unlike most beginners, who threw their pieces on the board in a nearly random fashion in hopes of a lucky combination, every move that Telemachus made was precise and calculated for maximum efficiency. Some strategies, Dylan wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't seen them before.

"Sir, I must apologize for something," the other man spoke up after the prolonged period of silence. "Two years ago, you came to Tarazed with the offer to join the New Commonwealth, and I greeted you with... less than open arms."

"You did what you thought was best for your people," Dylan replied. "I can hardly hold that against you. Your intentions were in the right place."

"But so were _his_," Telemachus muttered through gritted teeth. "You know, growing up, there was a great deal of pressure on me to live up to his image, and more than anything I wished to be half the man he was. It's ironic that having finally archived that, I realize exactly what kind of man he was."

"He was..." Dylan paused looking for the right word, "Complicated. The truth is I may not know what really happened, but Gaheris is... was not a man I could ever easily label. When you put a hole in someone, you get a chance to think about what his life meant and why he lost it at your hands. Gaheris, too, was trying to protect his people, and even I have to admit that at the very least, in part, he was right."

"How so?" Telemachus frowned. He knew the captain was conflicted about the way he saw his former First Officer and best friend, but had assumed that Dylan finally wrote off Gaheris as a traitor and nothing more.

"Because of Brandenburg Tor," the captain explained. "The main catalyst of the revolt was the slaughter at Brandenburg Tor and the treaty of Antares." The former Admiral of Tarazed muttered a curse under his breath, but Dylan only laughed at his reaction.

"I take it you don't approve?"

"They compromised with monsters," he spat.

"That's exactly what Gaheris said," Dylan nodded. "And look at the outcome. Look at what we have on our hands now. He was right. Perhaps if the Commonwealth had put up a strong front, then, when it was more powerful, more united, we wouldn't have the problems we have now."

"Still, it does not excuse his actions," Telemachus insisted.

"No," the captain agreed. "No, it doesn't, but in the end Gaheris was one man, the Andromeda, one ship. It may not have mattered at all. Besides, if I knew him well - and despite everything, I believe I did - if Gaheris was here, he would not be proud of the outcome of his actions. You ancestor was not an evil man, Telemachus."

"I suppose," he didn't sound too convinced, but seemed willing to let it go, placing another piece on the board.

"You're worried," Dylan observed. "About how his actions will reflect on you in the New Commonwealth, especially now that Tyr has escaped. You're wondering if they will blame you."

"I wouldn't blame them if they did," Telemachus admitted. "One escaped Nietzschean warlord missing, and the descendant of a Nietzschean traitor who was responsible for bringing him in. I believe the conclusion is perfectly logical."

"Logical to whom?" one eyebrow raised. "Not to the people who know you. Listen, when we get to Tarazed, we'll straighten this whole thing out. Just worry about your territory on the board."

"Indeed," Rhade rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whether it was the escape of his prisoner and the feeling of failure, or the conversation he really hadn't wanted to have with the captain, but Telemachus suddenly felt weary. He looked at the board again, carefully studying each of the three levels before making his move. Now Dylan was really surprised.

"Are you sure you never played before?" the captain asked, slightly suspiciously.

"Positive," though even Telemachus had to admit that he was no longer so sure. His eyes scanned over the board again. "Ten," he muttered more to himself than to Dylan.

"Humm?" the other man looked up. "What was that?"

"Ten moves," the Nietzschean repeated. "Theoretically, I can win in ten moves." Dylan stared at him in bewilderment that made Telemachus feel as if he'd personally offended Dylan in the worst way possible.

"Theoretically," he repeated, hoping it would alleviate the look of near horror on Dylan's face that he honestly had no explanation for. Telemachus cleared his throat, looking down at the board but mostly avoiding the captain's wide eyes. The other man opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance too.

"Captain," Andromeda's soft female voice sounded through room. "Tri-Lorn is requesting an audience in command." Dylan and Telemachus exchanged a look.

"Well let's go see what the higher powers have for us today," the captain got up, not bothering to clean up the board. "We can finish the game later. You were winning, you know, Telemachus. Not bad for a first game."


End file.
